Concentrate On The Essence, Concentrate On The

True Beauty Is A Ray That Springs From The Sacred Depths Of The Soul.

We Are The Mirror, As Well As The Face In It. We Are Tasting The Taste Of Eternity This Minute. We Are Pain And What Cures Pain. We Are The Sweet Cold Water And The Jar That Pours. Soul Of The World, No Life, Nor World Remain, No Beautiful Women And Men Longing. Only This Ancient Love Circling The Holy Black Stone Of Nothing. Where The Lover Is The Loved, The Horizon And Everything Within It.

Inside Of Us, There's A Continual Autumn. Our Leaves Fall And Are Blown Out Over The Water.

In Winter The Bare Boughs That Seem To Sleep Work Covertly, Preparing For Their Spring.

Inside The Great Mystery That Is, We Don't Really Own Anything. What Is This Competition We Feel Then, Before We Go, One At A Time, Through The Same Gate?